(no subject)
[OOM: On the plane to St. John's, Ray discovers exactly what they're dealing with.]
The door opens on the banal chaos of every North American airport of the early twenty-first century. Ray walks in, rubbing at his face with both hands. "If I have to go back to Miskatonic," he mutters to no one in particular, "I'm gonna plotz. Bar? I'm gonna need another one of those bladder-buster sized containers of Ovaltine, please."
A mug much too big for its own good materializes.
"Thank you."
The door opens on the banal chaos of every North American airport of the early twenty-first century. Ray walks in, rubbing at his face with both hands. "If I have to go back to Miskatonic," he mutters to no one in particular, "I'm gonna plotz. Bar? I'm gonna need another one of those bladder-buster sized containers of Ovaltine, please."
A mug much too big for its own good materializes.
"Thank you."